The Silence After Lightning
by Starliteyes17
Summary: He turns up Blue Oyster Cult, singing along as loud as he can, ‘til the ringringDeanpickupyourgoddamnphonering running in his head drowns, whimpers, and dies away.


**The Silence After Lightning **

**AU. Set during 'Scarecrow' and beyond. Slight spoilers for 'Scarecrow'.**

Rating: R for Language.

**Summary: He turns up Blue Oyster Cult, singing along as loud as he can, 'til the _ring-ring-Dean-pick-up-your-goddamn-phone-ring _running in his head drowns, whimpers, and dies away.**

**Disclaimer: I own a copy of the DVD set, and nothing else.**

I.

Dean's on his way to the college when hears his phone ring. SAMMY in big block letters stares back at him._ I knew it. He can't live without me._

He's about to press OK when he just... stops. And what does that say about him, that he'd hesitate when it's Sammy – _Jesus_, _Sam then, what the hell ever_ – on the other end?

Hell, he's just giving the kid what he wants. _Finally, the Best Big Brother Ever, right?_

He turns up Blue Oyster Cult, singing along as loud as he can, 'til the _ring-ring-Dean-pick-up-your-goddamn-phone-ring_ running in his head drowns, whimpers, and dies away.

II.

_Thank god for small favors_ is all Dean can think as he watches Emily soak the tree in gasoline. Though he'd never admit it, for a second there, tied to that damn apple tree – _and yeah, if I ever thought about eating healthy again, this hunt sure stomped on that good intention_ – he'd considered that he might not make it, but then the cops showed.

_Too bad it's too late to thank the couple, _Dean thinks as he drives away. _Then again, I did save their asses two nights ago, so no thanks needed._

Dean sighs to himself. _Shoulda been Sammy though, really. No way in Hell I'd thank him though, if he'd shown up._

_Nope. No way. Never._

_Maybe._

III.

It's five days before Sam calls again. Dean's in Nevada, hunting another Woman in White. If he's thought a hundred times about calling Sam himself, he won't admit to it. _He left me_, Dean keeps reminding himself. _If he misses me, he can call and I'll come get him. But I'll be damned before I let him think I need him back_.

This time, Dean stares at the phone, waits just until it's about to switch to message, then presses OK and holds it up to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Dean?"

"Sam."

Silence. _Let him feel awkward. Let him feel guilty. Let him – _

"Listen Sammy, everything I said before... I just want you to know, I... I didn't mean to hurt you. I mean, I didn't mean it. Any of it. I was just, I was just mad and tired and..." Dean wants to kick himself for sounding so vulnerable, but right now, he knows he just has to finish it now that he's started, so... "I don't think you're a selfish bast-"

"Oh god Dean, can you be any more _pathetic_?"

Dean's tongue sticks to the roof of his gaping mouth. His breath comes short, his heart spontaneously speeding up. _What?_

"Wha-"

"I mean really, Big Brother, you're supposed to be the _strong one_, damn it. All macho and tough? No-chick-flick-moments, dude-you're-such-a-girl, no-care-attitude? Little Brother's supposed to be the one sputtering all this apology shit, isn't he? Not that you'd ever catch _me_ saying sorry about leaving your _pathetic_ ass behind."

_Youdon'tmeanthatSammyyoudon'tmeanthatyoudon'tmean-_

"Oh, you don't get it yet, do you? Well let me spell it out for you, Dean. Sam? He's not yours to protect anymore. He's ours. Well, mine, actually."

And Dean finally, _finally_ gets it.

"You bastard, you son of a bitch, you let him go, you get the hell out of him or I swear to God I will-"

"You'll what? Exorcise my damned ass? Hate to break it to you bro, but I'm just too smart for you. Hell, your daddy's been hunting me for what, twenty three years now? And if he can't find me, you sure as hell won't be able to."

And if Dean was furious before, he's positively-

"You fucker! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Hell would be too good for your goddamn-"

"Sorry to cut it short bro, but I gotta go. Take care of yourself, though, you hear? I'd hate it if anything happened to you."

And he sounds so much like Sammy that Dean pauses for a second. _Oh God, Sammy._

"Sammy listen, listen I'm going to find you, we're gonna get him out of you, keep fighting Sammy don't let him-"

The line clicks, dead.

IV.

"Dad, listen to me, the demon oh God Dad the Demon he has Sammy, he took him Dad, he's _inside_ him Dad and you gotta call me back right away..."

Twenty-six messages and fourteen hours later, and Dean knows. _Goddamn you, Dad. God Damn You._

V.

He starts in California, in San Fran, going to every motel, every bar, every nightclub, every underground dig he can find.

"You haven't seen this guy lately, have you? The one on the right, yeah, not me. Listen, it's really important, please, if you remember anything, anything, call this number."

A couple dozen places later, though, and _I'll find you Sammy_ starts switching to _Oh God Sammy, oh God where are you? _

A couple weeks later and the only mantra Dean can stomach is, _I won't give up Sammy. I won't give up._

Sometimes it's a promise. Deep down, though, Dean knows it's a prayer.

VI.

It's been nearly six months.

Dean sits at the back of a bar in Kentucky, nursing a beer, thinking back to the time when Sam was five years old and he slipped at the playground, cut his knee wide open. Dad was on a hunt, and Dean had to stitch his brother up all by himself. _Stop it Dean! It hurts!_

_I'm trying Sammy. I'm trying._

Dean's phone rings, for the first time in weeks. He hardly glances at it anymore, even when it rings, but this time he feels the need to check who it is.

Dean nearly chokes on the sour liquid he's drinking, so surprised and, daresay, _hopeful_ he suddenly feels. He hits OK and-

"Dad!"

"Dean, son."

VII.

"This gun, it can kill anything."

Dean looks at his Dad with stony eyes, his hands reaching to grasp the Colt from John's purposeful grip. He takes it into own hands, his fingers caressing the cool metal, his gaze transfixed on the trigger.

Warily, he slowly raises his eyes back to his Dad, the question written in his newly-worn features, the deep frown most likely permanent.

"Dad, what are you saying? You can't honestly think you'll be able to kill-"

"Sam wanted this demon dead, Dean." But John can't look in his eldest son's eyes when he says it. "He wanted it dead. This demon is a tough son of a bitch. He'd kill Sam himself before he'd let us exorcise him, you know that."

Dean's heart is in his throat. "Dad, we can't kill Sammy, we can't, I can't-"

"If there was another way, Dean, you know I would take it. But we have to end this Dean. For Sam, if for anyone. He's been stuck in his own head for half a year, or... maybe he's already dead. We have to kill it, Dean. Sam understands that. We have to kill it. For Jess. For Mary. For Sam."

Dean says nothing. Just drops his stare back to the gun. _No, the murder weapon. The weapon that's going to kill Sammy. _Then he looks up again, to John, who is lost in thought, staring at his hands, his eyes hopeless yet determined. And Dean thinks to himself, _No, Sammy, not if I can help it._ No more prayers.

_I won't give up Sammy. I won't give up._

It's a promise.


End file.
